


Of wolves and wolf packs

by FayH2



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arya Stark-centric, BE WARNED THIS IS CRACKETY CRACK, But I’ll try and sell it to you anyway, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Future Fic, Post ADWD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayH2/pseuds/FayH2
Summary: Arya named her wolf after the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, who led her people across the narrow sea.At night, she was the Night Wolf. She was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. She preferred that to the dream where she was always looking for her mother, stumbling through a wasted land of mud and blood and fire...always weeping, like a frightened little girl.Her father once told her, “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” She had no pack, though. They had killed her pack and when she tried to make a new one, back in Westeros, all of them ran off. Maybe she would try to make a new pack somewhere new, just like Queen Nymeria. Just like the Night Wolf.Formerly titled, “Arya Stark, Queen of Wolves”
Relationships: Aurane Waters/Arya Stark, Jon Snow/Arya Stark
Comments: 36
Kudos: 133





	1. Cat of the Canals

**Author's Note:**

> Age up everyone up by 5 years.

Cat lay in his bed, thighs sticky, with a sweet ache in her groin as he drew shapes on her stomach, peppering light kisses up her chest. 

_I should be back at Brusco’s_ she thought. _It’s late._ She left the house at the same time as Brea every other night while Talea covered for them. When they stayed home, Talea would go out instead. 

At first Brea and Arya would go out every night and spend the day unable to stay awake. Whenever they didn’t make enough money Brusco would be angry with them. If she was too late home, Talea and Brea may get in trouble because of her. She also knew before they set off, Brea in her giggles would ask to compare notes given her own nightly dalliances on her father’s roof with Tiag, the roof rat.

“We could leave you know,” he said, breaking her out of her reverie. “Come with me.”

Amused, she asked “And where would we go?”

“Wherever we want,” he replied, all self-assured, looking up at her. “We could rule the seas, I am Lord of the Waters, you could be my lady.”

“Is that so?” she smiled 

“Do you want to be something else?” he asked, positioning himself back between her legs and kissing her neck. 

_I want to be Arya of Winterfell once again,_ she thought. _I want to laugh with Bran, and run with Rickon. I want my father to kiss my brow while he talks of the wolf-blood. I want my mother to laugh about how she doesn’t know what to do with me. I want to see Robb practice with his sword. I want to hear Sansa sing again. I want to hear Old Nan tell me one more story. I want to hear Hodor say Hodor one more time. I want Jon to muss my hair and call me little sister. I want to hear him say “I missed you,” at the same time as me before we both laugh at ourselves. I want the life I lost._

Instead, she said nothing. Ever since she left Westeros she’s spent less time talking and more time mourning, keeping her thoughts to herself. 

_How times change._ There was once a time when Arya would say the first thing that came into her head. Mother always joked about that but who was Arya Stark but a girl who lived a life, what seemed like, a thousand years ago. 

Hearing no response from her, and unaware of her maelstrom, he stopped his ministrations to ask her, “What do you want to be, Cat?” 

Feeling honest, she said, “When I was younger I wanted to be Wenda the White Fawn, now I don’t know.” 

_“_ _No man's gold was from them, nor any maiden's hand. Oh, the brothers of the Kingswood, that fearsome outlaw band,”_ he sang smiling and looking down at her from above. 

She rolled her eyes at him and swatted him away but he pulled her back into the bed before she could get her shift. Her back was to his chest. 

“Well, I am no man for the forests but I am a man of the seas,” he said before kissing her neck. 

“Perhaps you could be my pirate queen. Braavos had Bellegere Otherys… so did Westeros now I think of it,” he teased. “That would work well for me. Aegon IV had three children with the Black Pearl you know?”

“Now, what would we call you?” he laughed, before continuing to nuzzle her neck. “We can’t call you the Black Pearl, so what should it be?”

“The Grey Pearl,” she said, rolling her eyes and laughing when he started to tickle her. 

“Why grey?”

 _The snarling grey direwolf on a white field is my sigil_ , she thought. “I like the colour,” she said. 

“I’d rather you were the silver pearl.”

“Why?”

“Because, I have silver hair and you’d be mine... _stupid_ ,” he said mocking her and rolling his eyes. 

When she got up to move off his lap, he pulled her against him again. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. “Well...Grey Pearl, will you come with me?” 

She turned back to face him, “I’ll ask you again, where will you take me, my Lord of Waters?” 

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the talk of dragons,” he said, loosening his hold on her so she could sit across his lap and face him easier. 

“I plan to gift my fleet to Daenerys Targaryen. When she takes the Iron Throne, she might give me holdings for my service...especially when I tell her I left with Cersei’s ships,” he smirked. He loved to mention how he stole Cersei’s ships to her even though he never quite knew why Cat of the Canals hated Cersei so much.

“House Velaryon and House Targaryen have been allies for centuries, perhaps for my service she will give me Driftmark in place of my half-brother’s son.”

“And when you do that,” Arya said, placing her hand on his chest, “what would a lord like you do with a girl who sells clams by the harbour? You will marry a lady wouldn’t you?” 

“I didn’t have you down for one who wants to marry,” he retorted.

“Then what do you have planned for me?” she asked. 

“I will keep you by my side. We will rule the waters or the lands, Driftmark if I’m lucky or Rosby...perhaps she might even grant me Duskendale.”

“Do you say that to all the girls?” she inquired, eyebrow raised, amused at his dreams. 

“Only the wicked ones who shorn off all their hair,” he joked, trying to muss the stubble that grew where she once had hair. It reminded her of another person, a lifetime ago. She planted a kiss on his lips and moved off his lap. 

“I have to return home, Brusco will be expecting me at the harbor, dawn is less than an hour away.” 

He got up to help her dress. “Think on it will you? I cannot stay in Braavos forever and I’ve grown to like your company, dear Cat.” 

He held her against his chest as she laced up the front of the dress he bought her. “Come to me tonight, as well. I’ll be waiting”

She fumbled on her slippers, pecked his lips one more time, and slipped out. _Perhaps I’ll take him up on his offer. Maybe I could finally make it to the Wall. To Jon._

—

Ever since she met Aurane Waters her life has been full of adventurous nights. 

After she killed Raff the Sweetling, the Kindly Man was disappointed in her. 

_“That girl again? I thought she had left Braavos.”_ he said when he found out Arya of House Stark once again killed someone. He took her hearing for that but she heard through the ears of the many cats that became her friends, and continued to turn up revealing her three new things. Just to play with him she told him, “I know you told the waif I couldn’t be a faceless man.” 

“How did you know that?” he questioned. 

_I heard you._ “I gave you three, I don’t need to give you four,” she taunted, mimicking what she said to him when she was Blind Beth. 

She feared they would take her legs or her arms next, as he once warned her, and her animal friends couldn’t help her with that. Thankfully, seeing that turning her blind and then deaf did nothing to her, he told her she wasn’t welcome in the House of Black and White as an acolyte anymore. 

“Arya Stark is too proud to serve. A servant must be humble and obedient, you are not,” he said the day she left. 

Fortunately for her, he permitted her to continue to be Cat of the Canals since Arya Stark had nowhere else to go. She was thankful for that. Cat was her favourite. Her face was hers and she preferred the people Cat met to those of the ugly little girl and even Mercy. 

Cat was selling clams and exchanging japes with Red Roggo as he waited for Lanna when she heard a tall man with long silver-gold hair joke with another sailor about Cersei being arrested by the Faith. It caught Arya’s attention, so she moved to where he was sat. 

“Care to buy some clams?” she asked. 

“You speak the Common Tongue fluently,” he noted.

“I do, would you like some clams?” she smiled, in the way Lanna taught her. 

He bought three baked clams from her while she asked about news of the war and of home in the same way she asked all sailors from Westeros.

They told her how they ran away with a fleet of drummonds belonging to Cersei Lannister. She’d been arrested by the Faith on account of crimes including murdering the High Septon. _Cersei would do that,_ Arya thought. _They killed Father and everyone from our household in King’s Landing. And before that they killed Mycah and Lady._

The news of Cersei’s arrest elated Arya. _I hope they kill her in front of that wretched Sept. I hope her last memory is what they did to Father._

She continued to talk of home with the silver-haired man who told her his name was Aurane Waters. She knew he was undressing her with his eyes every time he looked at her. 

She learned how their drummonds were manned by thieves and other criminals who would have ended up on the Wall. They told her a life on the sea would be a better life for them. _The Wall is an honourable place_ she wanted to tell them. The likes of them could never compare to Jon and Uncle Benjen and Yoren who gave up his life to protect his young charges or even the fat boy who came to Braavos with Dareon but she bit her lip and stayed silent. 

As the evening grew cooler, she bid them farewell and started to make her way back to Brusco’s. 

As she walked, she saw through the eyes of her favourite black tomcat that Aurane was following her. _Perhaps he means to rob me. Why would he rob you for your little wheelbarrow when he commands all those ships, stupid?_

“Where are you really from,” he asked when he caught up with her. 

“King’s Landing,” she replied.

“And am I supposed to believe you are the street urchin you are posing to be?” he retorted, walking backwards so he could face her. 

_He can’t know me. I’ve never seen him before._

Thankfully he spoke before she whipped out the finger knife Roggo taught her how to use. 

“Whoever you are, I find the thought of a high born run away enticing...and since we are here hiding away from our ghosts in Westeros, perhaps we could hide together.” 

She rolled her eyes at him and left him standing where he was. Yet everyday he would be at the Happy Port and every day he’d buy three baked clams from her, trying to figure out who she was. He concluded she must be from the Riverlands. She knew it well enough to go along with his story. 

Not long after, they started to spend their nights together as well. They’d only speak as they sat at Ragman’s Harbor. He told her of his plan to become the true Lord of the Waters when he destroyed a man named Salladhor Saan. He wanted to wait in Braavos for a while as he heard Euron Greyjoy’s ships were on the prowl and he was too dangerous a foe to face alone. “ _Let he and Saan finish off each other,”_ he said, “I’ll then take my place.”

He told her how he bent the knee to Joffrey but was glad to see him dead. He preferred Tommen. _So did I. The plump boy who played with Bran and walked with me to the feast, wouldn’t have killed Father._ Clearly he didn’t prefer him too much or he wouldn’t have left King’s Landing. 

“Why did Cersei let you take the criminals?” she asked him one day, remembering Yoren and how her Father gave him the pick of the black cells. “Don’t they send them to the Night’s Watch anymore?” _To Jon?_

“Ned Stark’s bastard was elected Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Cersei was incensed. She did not want to send any more men to the Night’s Watch until they removed him.”

“Why did she hate him?”

“Cersei hates all Starks. She hated the one they called the Young Wolf after he declared himself king but there’s no one she hates more than his sister.” He stopped before clarifying which one. _Do I haunt her the way she haunts me?_

“Why does she hate that king’s sister? What did she do to her?”

“She says Sansa Stark killed Joffrey.”

Arya had to stop herself from cackling then. She bit her cheeks and turned away from him. _Oh Sansa, I love you! I love you!_

“The only Stark she doesn’t mention is the one they married to Roose Bolton’s son.”

“What?” 

“Know a lot about the North do you?”

“Don’t be stupid. What would a girl from King’s Landing know of the North? I just don’t like Cersei and Joffrey because their carriage ran over my friend once and they continued on as if he didn’t matter,” she half-lied.

She could see he wasn’t sold but he continued, “Arya Stark. They married her to the son of the man who killed her brother. What could be worse?”

Arya felt dizzy. _Roose Bolton killed Robb? Who did he marry his son to?_ She was finding it difficult to breathe. _What if I told him who I was in Harrenhal. What would he have done with me?_

Instead, she decided to move the conversation away. “So,” she cleared her throat, “did they remove Ned Stark’s bastard from his position as Lord Commander?”

“Not as far as I remember. Why?”

“My brother joined the Night’s Watch.”

“What crime did he commit?”

“He was an armourer’s apprentice, my father couldn’t feed us both and his master got tired of him.” _Always stay close to the truth. Well a truth._

Feeling bold she prodded, “What did you think of this Lord Commander?”

“I didn’t care for him. I didn’t know the man.”

_I did. He’s the best of men._

She liked Aurane’s company. He had a dry wit that reminded her of Jon sometimes. He was a good sailor, often making small trips for traders but never going too far. The longest they spent apart was a week. When he returned from that trip it wasn’t long before they ended up in bed together. He was a giving lover, even if she knew neither of them truly loved the other. They were lonely souls who recognised something in the other. 

One morning in bed he spoke of how he was sure Cersei saw Rhaegar Targaryen in him. He told her how Lord Tywin had planned to wed her to Rhaegar before he married Elia Martell. 

“Since she was looking for a ghost, I thought I’d play to her fantasy,” he joked. “The woman was an idiot.”

“She is a callous idiot,” Arya added forgetting herself. 

“Is that so?” he asked, cocking up an eyebrow at her. “And what would a girl who sells clams know about Cersei? Pray tell, will you finally tell me who you really are?” 

“When a girl works on the harbour she hears all sorts of things my lord,” she replied equally amused. “For example, I hear the Volantene triarchs are supporting the slavers in Slaver’s Bay and I hear the slaves of Volantis are waiting for the Prince that was Promised to save them. Would that make me a Valyrian? Contrary to what you think one does not need to be highborn to know things.”

“If you insist,” he said before pulling her back down. “Let’s sleep.”

“It’s not even noon!” 

“I bought all your oysters and your clams and your cockles, what else do you have to sell? Sleep, Cat. I like it when you growl,” he said dozily. 

—

The memory made Arya smile. 

She made it up the ladder to the room the three of them shared beneath the eaves. Talea was still asleep and Brea wasn’t home yet, Arya poked Talea awake. 

“Wakey, wakey, it’s a new dawn,” Arya teased her as Talea muttered sleepy threats. Arya gulped down the moon tea The Sailor’s Wife gave her. 

“Where’s Brea?” Talea asked.

“Here,” she whispered and began changing out of the dress Tiag bought her. 

“So what did you and lover boy do?” Brea began teasing as she threw on her tunic.

Arya rolled her eyes at her before they all climbed down the ladder. Brusco and the boys met them on the boat as usual. 

That day started much like every other day, Brusco pushed their small boat down the canal. It was a crisp day, with a pink dawn and a cool breeze. Her favourite.

When they picked up their wares, Cat made her way to Ragman’s Harbor. Gyloro Dothare sang out his filthy songs to her as she walked past, she returned his bawdy tune with lines from _The Merchant’s Lusty Lady_ that the mummers from the Ship taught her. They laughed at that together and he bought some prawns from her for that. 

Tagannaro was still looking for a partner to pick pockets with him but thanks to her Little Narbo spent less time thieving and joined the mummers who now called themselves the _Six Drunken Oarsmen_ after Quence and Allaquo left the Ship when Quence found Allaquo abed with Sloey. They tried to come back but the others didn’t let them. Little Narbo remained grateful to Cat for helping him so he always bought from her and Tagannaro still joked with her even though she never left Brusco to join him. She gave Casso the King of Seals a clam while they joked with each other. For all he was a cut purse, who used Casso as a distraction while he picked pockets, Tagannaro never stole from her. 

When she made the rounds, she made her way to Happy Port and to Merry’s brothel. Lanna had some time off that afternoon and told Cat to come round so that they could watch the mummers play _The Song of Rhoyne._

As she walked, her cats began to follow her. First came Sansa, the orange cat that was her ears when the Kindly Man took her hearing. Her favourite old tom with the chewed ear was never far behind. She called that one the _Black Bastard_ like the cat she used to chase in the Red Keep. They called Jon the Black Bastard now too so she always kept him close. The bedraggled grey cat she named after Greywind joined them as well and before she knew it she had a dozen cats trailing her. They liked her smell and she liked their company. They were her eyes and ears. 

“You girl, you have the blood of the First Men. Who are you?” A woman called out. 

_No one,_ she thought, “My name is Cat,” she said. 

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you before,” Arya added. 

The woman ignored her. “And where are you from Cat?,” the woman asked. She was an older woman in a dress that looked like it was made from a sack. Her hair was matted, and her eyes hard. 

“I’m Cat of the Canals, this is my home,” Arya replied, sceptical of the woman’s questioning. “Why do you ask?”

“You have the eyes of a wolf,” the woman replied. Arya bit her lip. 

“Who are you?” Arya asked again. .

“They call me Una.” 

“Nice to meet you, Una,” Arya replied, unsure of this wild woman. “Where are you from?” Arya asked. 

“I am a woman of the free folk captured by slavers from Hardhome,” 

“You were on the Goodheart.” Arya replied. It wasn’t a question.

“Aye.”

Una started laughing bitterly then. “Free folk who don’t bend the knee, enslaved. I’ve never heard a bigger joke.”

When she finished, “Where in the North are you from?” Una demanded.

“I’m not from the North,” Cat insisted.

“One skinchanger can always sense another, girl,” Una smiled. 

“Don’t tell me who you are, it makes no matter but you should know, not everyone can skin change a cat and you have yourself a little army.” 

_A pack._

“Only the blood of the First Men can skinchange and I recognise you as one of ours,” Una added. 

That was the start of a friendship between Arya and the older woman. From that day on they would sit by the harbor together. Una would tell her stories about wargs and skinchangers from beyond the wall. About stories of the Children of the Forest, that Bran would have loved.

Thus began a new routine for Arya. She’d spend some of her nights with Aurane, her days selling wares of the sea, her afternoons with Una and more of the free folk, teaching them basic Braavosi and her evenings counting coins with Brusco and his family. 

One night, Aurane even bought food for Una and 50 other wildlings and whenever Arya had spare cockles she’d share them with the children. She found Una’s daughter Gertha a job with Tagannaro, who still wanted Cat but accepted the help anyway. Some of the men got jobs as oarsmen.

Arya did this after learning the story of the free folk from Una. Most of them were on the _Goodheart_ and were captured from Hardhome as they fled the Others and starvation beyond the Wall. Arya thought the Others were only monsters from Old Nan’s stories but after everything she’d seen she wouldn’t dismiss another’s story so easily. 

_“Mother Mole had a vision of a fleet of ships arriving to carry the free folk to safety across the narrow sea. Thousands of us believed her,”_ Una said shaking her head one evening. 

_“She led us all to Hardhome, to pray and await salvation from across the sea. We got no salvation, just slavers who bounded us. Three thousand men, women and children we were. The Lyseni couldn’t take us all so they took just the women and the children. They said they’d go back for the rest later._

Arya knew this much of the story. She heard it directly from the Lyseni slavers herself when she was Blind Beth and Pynto gave her food at his inn.   
  


_“Free folk taken as slaves. I’ve never heard of anything worse. I was ready to throw myself off the ship's prowl, better to die free than live a slave but then the winds blew our ship to this land and the Sealord freed us. We thought we found our salvation. The Sealord freed us and captured the other ship that carried our kinfolk and returned us all here. Then… he left us with nothing.”_

_“We have nothing to hunt. Some of the women sell their bodies to feed their children. They can only work as dockside whores. Apparently they’re not even good enough to be taken into brothels. Some of our people want to go to the other cities to be slaves. Can you imagine that? Free folk who want to be slaves!”_ Una hated the idea of free folk being enslaved. 

“ _Normally we would ask Mother Mole for help on what to do, but she only went and died on us didn’t she?”_

That was a month ago.

This afternoon was a clear, grey one. Arya finished her lessons with the children and walked with Una and her son Byorn to Purple Harbor. He was a tall boy of only ten with golden hair and easy, cracked smile. He’d been dismissed from the job he had for the past week and Arya hoped they could find him a job in the soup shops in this side of the city.

“ _I wish we went to the Wall with Mance and the others,”_ Byorn said sullenly. “Ygritte’s crow took them in. He was our best hope as well.”

“Who is that?” Arya asked him.

“A crow who took a girl of ours for a spear wife. Jon Snow they called him.”

_Jon! Jon has a wife!_

“Men of the Watch aren’t allowed wives,” she told him instead. 

“He stole Ygritte for a wife anyway and then she died in his arms in battle, a sad end for a love story,” Una chipped in. 

Arya felt sad for Jon. 

“Would you return to Eastwatch if you could?” Arya asked them, perhaps she would go with them. Maybe Aurane could take them. She’d have to offer him something though. _What?_ Perhaps if she told him who she really was he’d help her. 

“With what coin, girl?” Una enquired, but Arya’s attention was caught by a girl who was walking off a ship with two male companions. She had pale skin, lacklustre brown hair and a black nose. The closer she got, the wider Arya’s eyes got.

_Jeyne Poole?_

  
  



	2. Who am I?

_Clack, clack, clack, clack_ the empty wheelbarrow bounced noisily off the cobbled streets of Purple Harbor. 

Arya wasn’t sure when she began moving, but her legs were carrying her to the girl who looked like Jeyne Poole. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It couldn’t be Jeyne Poole, perhaps she just looked like her. _Why would Jeyne Poole be in Braavos?_ she wondered but a voice that sounded like the waif’s asked, “ _Why would Arya Stark be in Braavos?”_

“Cat! Where are you going? Cat!” Byorn shouted behind her in a way only an annoying little brother might. Like Bran or Rickon might have in the past when she was hiding from Septa Mordane.

“Be quiet,” she bit back, before walking to where they stood outside the soup shop. “Here, keep my barrow, I will come find you later to pick it up.” 

“But! But you promised you’d help me find a job at the soup shop!” he grumbled sullenly, not raising his gaze to look at her.

Arya put her hand to his chin, “Look at me,” she said. He raised his head to do so, but his pout remained. 

“I promise you, I will find you a shop even better than this soup shop, with the kindest inn-keep in the entire city.” 

“Really?” Byorn asked, all bright eyed, his churlish look gone. 

“Yes, I promise.” she smiled. 

Why hadn’t she thought of Pynto’s earlier? Arya didn’t know the Purple Harbor soup shop’s owner well but Pynto looked after her when she was Blind Beth. Pynto the pirate had a soft heart under all his unwashed clothes and tall tales. Most nights he used to let her come inside from the cold and sometimes he would give her ale and food and he always had a good story. He would treat Byorn kindly too, especially since the boy could actually work for him, unlike Blind Beth. Pynto’s tavern was in a poorer part of town too and Arya learned in her time here that the poorer parts of town had kinder people. 

“But now, I really have to go, I’ll be back to see you later, I promise.” She mussed his hair, like Jon used to do to her. .

She turned to Una then, “I will find you, please just look after my barrow,” she pleaded. Una nodded. 

Arya turned her gaze back in the direction the girl who looked like Jeyne had walked in but she couldn’t spot her. She turned her head left in the direction of the bridge leading to the The Dome. Oily haired bravos walked the bridge, traders sold their wares, but the girl and her companions were not there.

Arya turned her head right in the direction of the Blue Lantern but she couldn’t make the girl out in the crowds that middled about their business there either. 

She ran toward the wharf and leaned across the railings to peer in the direction of the Sealord’s palace. Flat bottomed rowing boats floated past her, none of them carrying the girl and her companions.

Arya buried her face in her hands. _No, no, I can’t lose her!_ Arya had to know if that was Jeyne. _What kind of faceless man loses someone this easily?_ Arya disparaged herself. _You weren’t good enough to be a faceless man,_ the voice that sounded like the waif’s reminded her. 

She jumped back down the railings. Turning her head to the heavens. The clouds were grey and full to bursting. It was only a matter of time before the clouds released their burdens. Braavos only knew three types of weather: fog, rain and freezing rain. Arya hoped she’d only be caught in a small shower. She had a long walk south to Silty Town where the wildlings made their makeshift camp and then she would have to travel back up the Long Canal to Brusco’s house in the Drowned Town. She’d have to find a boat to help her make the trip, preferably for free. Brusco was very tight on his money and she didn’t want to use it without cause. 

Feeling resigned, she began moving in the direction of Silty Town, crossing a two arched stone bridge which connected Purple Harbor to the Blue Lantern neighborhood when she spotted the girl and her two male companions, crossing a bridge one bridge away from her. The girl was trailed by four guards and a short muscular woman with thick thighs and big breasts. She wore furs and mail. 

_Quick as a snake_ , Arya switched directions to follow them. She all but ran past the bridge that separated them. 

“Cat! Where are you speeding to?” Red Roggo bellowed. “Later!” she hollered back. 

When she finally caught up with them, _quiet as a shadow,_ Arya began taking note of the people with the girl who looked like Jeyne. 

The six guards wore surcoats depicting a crowned stag enclosed within a red heart surrounded by a blaze of orange fire on a field of yellow. The stag looked like the prancing stag of House Baratheon, of the old king, but she did not know who this version of the sigil looked like. Perhaps they were not from Westeros. Only Braavosi ships could dock in Purple Harbor. If they were from Westeros they would have docked at Ragman’s Harbor. 

Arya continued to trail behind them, taking note of the other companions. The man to the left of the cloaked girl wore the purple felt robes bankers from the Iron Bank wore. He was tall, thin and gaunt with a long, thin, beard which almost reached his waist. 

The man to the right of the cloaked girl, was a fair haired knight. While his hair was as light as Lyseni’s, he wore the mail that only Westerosi knights wore. When he looked in Arya’s direction, she saw he was not an ugly man. His tunic depicted a sigil Arya did not recognise. It was a triple spiral of red, green and blue, on white. _Perhaps I should have paid closer attention to Septa Mordane’s lessons, then I would know who he was,_ she thought. _I bet Sansa would know._ Maybe she would describe it to Aurane and he could tell her. He knew more about Westeros than her and Sansa combined. 

The cloaked girl did not turn around at all though. Arya decided she would have to walk faster than the group, cross the next bridge before them and look into her face. _Calm as still water_ , Arya made her way through the group. She bumped into the woman in the mail, mouthed apologies in Braavosi, and scrambled past. The woman gave her a queer look but Arya paid her no mind. Next, _slippery as an eel,_ she made her way between the banker and the fair haired man to walk in front of them. 

At the mouth of the bridge, she stopped in front of a fountain. Watching. _Still as a stone_ , she waited for them to come past her. And then...the wind blew back the hood of the cloaked girl. Her brown hair flapped in the wind, her eyes were hollowed out. She looked right at Arya but it was like she was looking at Arya but she couldn’t _see_ her _._ And her nose, the tip of her nose was deformed. _It must be frostbite._ She may be skinnier than when Arya last saw her but it was definitely the pretty face of Jeyne Poole, Arya decided. There was no doubt about it. She was more gaunt than Arya had ever seen her, but Arya could still see the pretty girl from her childhood. The girl who used to neigh whenever Arya walked past. 

Arya continued to stalk behind them. She would know why Jeyne was in Braavos. A short walk from the fountain however, they stopped. Right in front of the Iron Bank. When the doors opened, the group walked in. 

_What business does Jeyne Poole have with the Iron Bank,_ Arya wondered. _I will know why she is here,_ Arya told herself. _Even if it’s the last thing I do._

As if the clouds sensed the storm inside her, the heavens opened and the freezing rain she hoped to avoid fell at once. 

\---

Arya didn’t know where the time went when she got to Silty Town. She boarded a barge belonging to the father of a porter she made friends with but spent her entire trip trying to work out why Jeyne was in Braavos. 

_Why did Jeyne not recognise me?_ she asked herself. She remembered how Jeyne used to call her _Arya Horseface._ Cat of the Canals didn’t look like a _Horseface_ though. Aurane said so, and he wouldn’t spend so much time with an ugly girl. All the girls at Merry’s called her pretty as well and they had no reason to lie to her, even if they were kind. Even the kindly man said she had a pretty face too and before him even Lady Smallwood said so. Arya Stark had carried many names but _Horseface_ was the one she hated most. Even more than _Lumpy Head_ and _Worm Breath._

By the time she got to Silty Town, Arya was soaked entirely but thankfully, the rain had stopped. She found herself walking between the smaller buildings, through alleys and jumping over small canals before she came upon the makeshift camp of the wildlings. 

“What happened?” Una asked when she got there. They were having eel soup that night. Gyleno Dothare had taught Cat where to catch the best eels and she taught Una and her people. 

“I saw someone from back home,” Arya told her. She spoke honestly for the first time in a long time. “But I couldn’t catch her.” 

Una gave her an understanding look and invited her to join them for their supper. Arya thanked them but she really needed to get back to Brusco’s before it was too late. More importantly, she had to get home before it started raining again. 

Not believing her luck, she found Brusco making his way through Silty Town. He gave her a suspicious look but when she threw the bag of coins onto the boat with a loud thud, Brusco’s son poled them through the canal all the way home. 

Brusco’s back ailed him again. So Arya offered to massage the crooks in his back as they travelled home. It was a sure way to earn his pleasure and Brusco was a good man for all he was sparing with his words and his coin. He gave her a roof over her head and for that she was grateful. 

When they got home, Arya made her way up the ladder to the room she shared with Brea and Talea. It was Talea’s night out tonight but both girls were home. 

Talea was in bed with her moon blood and Brea looked out of the small window, hardly noticing Arya at all. 

As Arya stripped out of her wet clothes, she asked Brea what was wrong with her. 

Brea begrudgingly told her that she had a fight with Tiag the roof rat. 

“She saw the thief kissing the new mermaid of the Merling Queen. The new one...you know the daughter of that Prestayn maid servant?,” Talea chimed in, as she sat up on the bed.

“Didn’t I tell you not to expect anything good from a thief?” Talea added for good measure. She never liked Tiag.

Arya moved to sit on the window seat with Brea, holding her hand. “He’s an ass’s pizzle,” she said, comforting her friend. “You were too good for him anyway, we’ll find you someone better.” 

Brea smiled through her tears and hugged her then. 

Talea made space for the two of them and they jumped in. And just as they did most nights they huddled together for warmth. Talea was the first to fall asleep. Brea followed her shortly after. 

Arya couldn’t sleep though. She tossed and turned, and tossed and turned. Talea even kicked her once telling her to stop wriggling about.

So, she stopped and stared at the ceiling. Into the darkness.

She thought about the last day. Before finding Jeyne in Braavos, her big news of the day was finding out Jon was a friend of the free folk. Like her! Even a world away they were in tune with one another. 

_He was not just a friend of the free folk though_ she reminded herself. He had a free folk lover. And then he lost her. To hear the way Una told it, theirs was a great love story. Arya wondered how Jon felt. 

How might she feel if she lost Aurane or she had to fight a war against him?

 _Don’t be silly,_ she chided herself. _Aurane can’t love you. He doesn’t even know who you really are. How can you love someone you don’t know?_

Even though she hadn’t told Aurane who she really was, she found herself caring more and more for the silver-haired man. He made her laugh, he was not unkind and best of all he hated Cersei too. But she was scared to take him into her pack. It would hurt all the more when he left and he _did_ say he couldn’t stay in Braavos forever. 

She found herself wondering who her pack was. Was she to be a lone wolf for all her life? She turned then, to the two girls she’d shared a bed with for so much of her time in Braavos. Brusco and the girls took their time teaching her Braavosi. They’d welcomed her into their home and their lives.

_I bet they don’t care if I’m Cat the orphan from King’s Landing or Arya of House Stark._

_The free folk wouldn’t care either,_ she told herself. In fact it would only bring her closer to them if what they said of Jon taking in the wildlings was true. 

Her friends on the wharves wouldn’t care either. There was Merry who ran the brothel at Happy Port. She had a good heart, everyone agreed. She wouldn’t care whether the girl who sold her clams was Arya or Cat. Nor would the kind girls who worked with her: The Sailor’s Wife who walked the wharves with her sometimes, or her daughter pretty Lanna with the golden hair. One-eyed Yna with her fall tales wouldn’t care. Nor would Pynto or any of the Mummers off the ship. Red Roggo and Tagannaro may even give her a pat on the back for her deception.

In fact, all of the friends she made on the wharves told her lies about their own lives. They were all keeping a part of themselves hidden, just like her. 

And anyway, the more time she spent as Cat, the less distinction she made between Arya of House Stark and Cat of the Canals. They were both orphans, it’s just the manner of their father’s deaths that differed. Arya’s father was beheaded on the orders of that treacherous Joffrey’s command while Cat’s father was an oarmaster on a galley who died on the trip to Braavos. 

All her friends in Braavos knew Cat but it was Fat Tom’s _Arya Underfoot_ who had friends all across the city. The porters and the mummers, the rope makers and the sail menders, the taverners, the brewers, the bakers and the whores may have spoken different languages to the freeriders, courtly knights, bold young squires and grizzled old men-at-arms her father used to host back at Winterfell, but they were just as kind. Perhaps they were even kinder because they shared their food and their smiles, not with Lord Eddard Stark’s daughter, but with an orphan girl from the sea-beyond-the-sea. 

The question for Arya wasn’t whether she should could make a home in Braavos. The question was who she wanted to be. 

When she tried to join the Faceless Men she was hungry for vengeance so much so that she rebuffed the Kindly Man’s offers to find her a ship to take her back to Westeros. Now she was no longer no one, she only had three choices. She could continue to be Cat and stay with her new pack in this city that became her home. 

She could become Aurane’s _Silver Pearl_ and take to the seas with him. Old Nan used to tell stories of boys who stowed away on trading galleys and sailed off into all kinds of adventures. Arya herself had experienced adventure on the seas aboard the _Titan’s Daughter_ back when she was Salty from Saltpans. She even considered asking Ternesio Terys to let her stay on to serve upon the _Titan’s Daughter_. 

When she wanted to be Wenda the White Fawn she hoped Gendry and Hot Pie would be her pack but they left. But Aurane was different; he wanted her to come with him. Maybe he was offering to make her his pack in his own way and she should know better than to turn him away. She didn’t like it herself when Gendry and Hot Pie did it to her. The sea was just as likely to throw up adventures as a life in the forests might. And anyway, Aurane wanted to join the dragon queen and Arya always wanted to meet dragons - the old skeletons in the Red Keep became like old friends to her toward the end. Perhaps she could join the Dragon Queen in her taking of Westeros. Arya would love to see Cersei’s end. 

Her third choice, the hardest one, was to become Arya of House Stark again. Arya had run from truly being Arya for years. She hadn’t truly been Arya of House Stark since her father died. Sure, Arya still lived within her, but she hadn’t been free to be herself. 

If she chose to be Arya of House Stark again, she could return North, perhaps to Eastwatch-by-the-sea with the free folk and go straight to Jon. If he took the free folk into his care then he wouldn’t turn _her_ away. _Jon will want me even if no one else does,_ she told herself. She could live at the Wall with him just as she wanted to in the first place. 

When she was travelling with Yoren _she wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.” She’d tell him, “I missed you,” and he’d say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything._

The thought made Arya smile. 

But the North was still dangerous. Someone in Winterfell was pretending to be Arya Stark. She even married the traitor Roose Bolton’s son. _Arya_ would never marry Roose Bolton’s son. Arya couldn’t trust Roose Bolton as far she she could throw him - and she couldn’t throw him at all given her small size. So there’s no way she would have married his son. Arya would rather die than be married to the son of the man who killed her brother. Why would anyone pretend to be her? For Winterfell? Who would save them from the Kings of Winter? Old Nan once told her the statue of each of the Kings of Winter had an iron sword placed on their laps to hold back their vengeful spirits. But Arya knew not all of them had iron swords. Sometimes Arya played in the lower levels of the crypts with Jon and Robb where the old, old kings lay and their statues were so old their iron swords rusted into nothing. _I hope the ghosts of the Kings of Winter kill them all. Starting with the Boltons and ending with that fake Arya Stark._

But Arya knew better than to believe in ghosts. After all even in Harrenhal she hadn’t seen any ghosts. Everyone thought it was the ghost of Harren the Black who had killed Chiswyck but it was her, through Jaqen. _She_ was the Ghost of Harrenhal. _If only I killed Roose Bolton while we were still in Harrenhal. Perhaps Robb would still be alive._

Arya wouldn’t need to rely on ghosts. If she went back as Arya of House Stark she could kill them all herself. The waif taught her enough about poisons, she could wipe them all out herself. They might even sing a song about the Stark sisters who poisoned their enemies. 

Whatever her choice, Arya would need to make it soon. Aurane said he wanted to leave and if he left, she might lose her chance. _First, I’ll find out why Jeyne Poole is in Braavos and then I’ll decide,_ she told herself. 

Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei...Roose Bolton. _Valar Morghulis_

Arya, shut her eyes and the Night Wolf ran with her pack. 


	3. All men must die (?)

_She ran at the head of her pack. Her brothers and sisters charged behind her toward the smell of fire at the big man rock by the river. She heard the cries of men and the shouts of others. She stopped her pack. She sneaked forward... trying to see better what was happening. The rain blocked much of what she was trying to see. Ahead of her, men battled while the man rock smouldered._

_She was about to turn away. That was the way of the wild. Deer and hares and crows fled before wolves, and wolves fled from big groups of men like this but then she spotted the woman. Her girl’s mother._

_She bolted into the fray, jumping head long into the muddy field. Her brothers and sisters followed her. As they always did.  
_

_She snapped and bit. Arrows flew and fell, some of them found her brothers and sisters. She howled in recognition of their pain but she could not leave the side of the woman with the bloodied face. A stocky man attacked the woman and she ripped his throat off. The taste of blood was not enough to sate her. She prowled, and bit and ate, always returning to the woman._

_Ahead of her a fat man with a firey metal claw cut across men on the man rock’s bridge. Next to him a tall man with a fish on his chest struck and killed his way past his opponents. Closer to the bank of the river a big man in yellow carved his way through other men._

_As she stood in front of the woman, a man with a hammer protected her back. His man-smell was mixed with leather and iron. He smashed his hammer at all those who approached the woman before an arrow struck him in the heart. He remained standing, clutching his chest._

_She pulled him away from the fighting, calling one of her grey brothers to protect the woman._

_Don’t go! The girl wouldn’t want you to! She prodded him. She licked his face, pawing his chest. Howling in pain. Don’t go!_

_Nymeria? He asked, smiling weakly at her. ‘You’re Nymeria,” he said before he closed his eyes._

_Awooooooooooooooooo!_

\----

“Cat!!!” Brea shook her awake. Arya wiped the water Talea threw on her, off her face. 

“You were shouting and kicking in your sleep,” Brea said, concerned. “We couldn’t wake you up. You were crying out. What happened?” 

“Who is Gendary?” Talea asked, unsure of how to pronounce the foreign word. 

Arya was in shock, her heavy breath was loud in her ears. She didn’t know how to react. She stared at the window of their room, not looking at either girl. 

Her mother was in a battle at The Twins. She looked almost nothing like herself. Her skin was milk white, she had grey-green mottling growing on her skin. What was left of her hair was white. Her eyes were haunting and her face cut into ribbons. Part of her skull could be seen below and there was a gaping gash across her neck.

Thoros was there too. He was on the bridge between the two towers. He fought alongside a grey-haired man with the leaping trout of House Tully on his surcoat...and next to her mother... Gendry fought with a war hammer. He killed many men before an arrow struck him in the chest. She pulled him away, trying to wake him up but...she couldn’t Gendry died.

He must have died. 

Una told her. Her dreams as the Night Wolf were no dreams at all. 

_Arya had just finished her lessons with the children when Una told her of a man she knew called Sixskins. She said he was wed to so many animals. “All skinchangers start with dreams,” Una said. “Over time however, you learn to hone your skill.”_

_Arya confessed then about seeing through the eyes of a cat. “Didn’t I tell you I recognised you,” Una said, smiling. “Skinchangers know each other. Only one man in a thousand is born one.”_

_“Let me guess,” she continued. “You were under a lot of strain when you paired with your first cat.” Arya nodded. “That’s how it is with cats, they’re the hardest to control and you have yourself your little army. Do you have any other animals?” she asked._

_“I had a wolf,” Arya confided. “Sometimes I dream I’m her.”_

_“That is no dream, girl. You are a warg and a favoured one at that. Not everyone can run with their wolf a sea away.”_

_Arya remembered the Lannisters saying Tywin was having magic swords made to defeat the Stark wargs during the war. Was Robb a warg too?_

_Before she could continue their conversation, one of the children came running. She complained about the Braavosi laughing at her accent. Arya comforted her telling her how people used to laugh at her when she first started learning. The Kindly Man even called her accent a horror. “Just keep practicing,” she told her._

_\-----_

Talea offered a mug of tea to her while Brea told her to get dressed, they’d be leaving soon. The two sisters exchanged unsure glances every time they looked at her. 

The journey to the fish market through the dawn fog seemed a blur. _How is mother alive? Did I save her when I found her body? I thought that was a dream. How does Gendry know my mother?_

Arya was so stuck in her head she forgot to ask Brea to swap where she sold her wares. Brea sold her day’s sales at the Purple Harbor. Where Arya last saw Jeyne. Whereas Cat sold her wares at Ragman’s Harbor on the other side of town. 

“Oysters, clams and cockles!” she shouted, half-heartedly in Braavosi. “Oysters, clams and cockles!” she repeated, this time in the Trade Tongue before yelling it again in the Common Tongue.

Her first customer of the day was a sellsword, with long brown hair. He was so tall - almost a giant. The sigil on his tunic was of a blue rose against three white arrows on a grey field. It was not one Arya had seen before. Given the way her day started she wasn’t really in the mood to speak so she continued to push her barrow through the crowded streets of her favourite part of town.

At the docks she spotted carracks out of Oldtown and trading galleys out of Duskendale, and Gulltown, as well as big-bellied wine cogs from the Arbor. She stopped at the foot of every gangplank to sell clams to each ship. A few bought. She asked for news from home from each one. The traders on the galley from Duskendale spoke about how Duskendale was busier than ever given the troubles in King’s Landing while the ships from the Arbor and Oldtown spoke of Ironborn invasions which, while sad, meant little to Arya. She wanted news from home or anything that would help her understand why Jeyne was in Braavos. 

She wheeled her barrow to the area of Happy Port. _The Drunken Daughter_ was sober enough to buy from her and even S’vrone was in a good mood. “Why the long face, Cat?” she asked. 

As S’vrone smiled at Cat, Arya looked around the port; at Tagannaro and Casso. She looked at Red Roggo as he flipped his knife in boredom, and past him to the mummers on the Ship, at Merry’s place, at the Dothare brothers, at Ezzelyno the drunken red priest and the Westerosi Septon Eustace, when an idea formulated in her head. She didn’t have to find Jeyne all by herself. Not when she had a pack of her own! 

She stopped by everyone she knew, and trusted enough not to ask her questions. She instructed them to look for Westerosi from the sea-beyond-the-sea wearing clothing that depicted a sigil of a crowned stag in a burning heart. She asked them to find out why they were here, and if they got friendly enough, to ask about the girl they were escorting. 

The girls didn’t ask her questions at all but Tagannaro wanted to know why he should be looking for this girl. 

“Can you do it or not?” Cat puffed at him. He laughed. 

“Fine, keep your secrets, Cat. Maybe if I do you this favour you’ll come to work for me. You know I’ll pay you better than Brusco. The girl is good,” he said, pointing at Una’s daughter Gertha, “but you are sneakier.” 

She instructed Gertha to share her instructions with the rest of the free folk and got on a small boat to Chequy Port, the customs officers there might have answers for her. 

Unfortunately, when she got there she realised there was a flurry of activity driven by the City Watch. She wouldn’t get much from her friends at the Port while they were around, so she decided to continue on to Purple Harbor. She had only a few more clams to sell before she finished her sales. 

She learned from a porter at Purple Harbor that the galley belonged to a banker at the Iron Bank, Tycho Nestoris. He’d returned from Eastwatch-by-the-sea. The porter didn’t know anything about his companions though. 

As she made her way toward the mummers at Blue Lantern, Arya could not believe her luck when she came face to face with the four guards that had accompanied Jeyne. 

“Oysters, clams and cockles,” she cried out to them in the Common Tongue. She easily captured their attention. This side of town wasn’t as mixed as Ragman’s Harbor so not everyone spoke the Common Tongue. 

“You speak the Common Tongue, girl?” one of them asked.

 _What do you think? she wondered_ , struggling against the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Yes, m’lord,” she replied instead. Most Westerosi enjoyed being called lords, even guards like these four. 

“Where can we find some women,” they asked. 

“Just over there m’lord,” she pointed at the courtesans’ barges floating past in the direction of the Sealord’s Palace, knowing full well they could not afford a courtesan’s company.

“Where can we find a normal whorehouse?” Another insisted before a third chipped in, “A cheaper sort, girl!” 

“You’ll need to go to Ragman’s Harbor for that m’lord,” she said sweetly. 

“ _The Drunken Daughter_ was sober this morning and she is a sweetheart when she’s not drunk. But what you’ll really want to do is go to Merry’s. Meralyn is her true name, but everyone calls her Merry, and she is,” she added in her practiced line. “She’s got girls for every man’s taste.” 

“The mummers on the Ship are also putting on a show tonight, they perform in the Common Tongue sometimes and you might like it. I’m going there now, m’lords, perhaps I can take you,” she offered. She could use the trip to get the information she required. 

“If not, you could watch the bravos duel by the Moon Pool,” Roggo would be her man there. “Or the eel fights in the Spotted Cellar.” Gyleno spent his evenings there and had lots of friends who might be able to glean information for her. 

But before she could lead them back to her trap, the fair-haired knight from the previous day called them back. 

\--

In the evening, she continued her lessons with the children.

“Did you find your girl?” Una asked. Arya shook her head. 

Una gave her a bowl of soup and a piece of cracked bread then. “Fine, eat before you leave,” she insisted. They had hardly any food for themselves but Una would always insist Arya ate. _A man is judged by how he treats his guest,_ she’d always say. “Back home, our people fight,” she’d add, “...but here we have to stick together.”

Arya wanted to ask her for more about Jon but she didn’t know how to bring it up without disclosing her own identity.

When she got home she saw that Brea was still upset about Tiag the roof rat. It was their night out but Arya decided to stay in with her friend even though Aurane was the only person who could help her work out what was happening. She’d just have to find a way of broaching the subject with _him_ without having to disclose her identity. 

In bed, her thoughts kept returning to her mother. She’d dreamt of her after the Red Wedding but she just thought she dreamt of her death not that she’d pulled her out of the water herself. Thoros was there. Did Thoros bring her mother back? Like Beric? Arya had asked Thoros once if he could bring back a man without a head. While he didn’t bring back her father for her it seemed he brought back her mother. 

_Could he bring back Gendry?_

—

The next day, after she sold everything she had to sell she convened with all her friends at the common room at Merry’s. 

The mummers had no new news. Neither did the Dothare brothers, Roggo and Tagannaro simply shrugged. 

The Sailor’s Wife said the four guards weren’t interested in getting married so Merry passed one to Bethany, another to one-eyed Yna, one to Assadora and the last one, who had more coin, to pretty Lanna. 

The Sailor’s Wife did get married that day though. “I married a soldier from the Company of the Rose. He said they’d just finished fighting in the Disputed Lands but left for Lorath when the Golden Company sailed for Westeros and the others went to fight against the Dragon Queen’s armies.” This was all very interesting but not related to Jeyne at all. 

Blushing Bethany had better news. She said the men were here on behalf of a king called _Sannis._

“Stannis you mean _,”_ Arya corrected. That would explain the prancing stag. _What does Jeyne have to do with Stannis Baratheon?_

“Just so,” Bethany agreed.

Gertha burst into the room then, trailed by her mother.

“Cat! Cat!” they came from home, she shouted. “They came from Eastwatch!” Arya knew as much. 

“They came from the Wall... they said Ygritte’s crow, Jon Snow was dead, killed by his crow brothers.” The girl was out of breath.

So was Arya. She felt winded. Her hands trembled and her arms and legs joined in. Her heart pound fast. Hard. She tried to take a deep breath but all her breaths were sharp and shallow. _Jon is dead?!_

She heard someone call out her name. “Cat?” 

_Jon is dead!_ Was she destined to be alone in this world? The pack is gone. She was truly a lone wolf now. 

_Breathe_ she told herself. _Rule your face._ But it was like her body gave up on the need to breathe and every one of the waif & the Kindly Man’s lessons flew out of her head. She was crying, she realised. _Breathe!_ Her vision got darker. _Breathe!_ Her vision narrowed. She felt like she could only see through a tunnel. _Calm as still water._ She opened and shut her eyes, trying to improve her vision. _Jon!_ _Breathe!_ She only saw stars. 

_Gendry is dead, Mother is alive, Jon is dead!_

She felt herself sinking to the floor. 

The floor flying up to meet her was the last thing she remembered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it comes across like I hate Gendry because this is the second time I’ve killed him but believe me I don’t lool:( I’m just at a loss of what to do with Aurane/Arya/Jon lol (what do we call this ship? Jonaurya? If so sign me up to be their first fan!).
> 
> We check in with our new fave Aurane next chapter.
> 
> Are you guys enjoying this story? I’m finding this a good distraction while I have some free time from my other piece, partly because I’m not taking myself too seriously for this one. Still, it’d be nice to hear your thoughts.


	4. Seeking answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya realises some things and adds one (two?) new names to the list.

Arya’s vision was hazy, her hearing muffled. She could make out chanting in High Valyrian above her. The lights were muted, there were people in the room but she could only see their shapes.

“Cat, can you hear me girl?” the voice sounded like Merry’s.

“Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys.” Ezzelyno was chanting above her. It had to be him, no one reeked this strongly of wine. 

Ezzelyno continued his chanting. 

“I’m not dead,” she managed to croak out.

“And how is it you know?” He questioned her with mirth in his voice. “Perhaps I brought you back. You told me you saw a priest bring someone back.”

“I was dreaming.”

“Really?” he clutched his chest.

“Pray tell what did you see on the other side?” he asked, feigning shock. The Kindly Man taught Arya how to read faces but she didn’t need to be a faceless man to know he was pulling her leg. 

“I didn’t die Ezzelyno,” she uttered.

“I know,” Ezzelyno started laughing. “Dead people don’t growl.”

Something about him reminded her of Thoros but drink aside, this drunk priest was kinder and funnier than Thoros ever was. He’d have to be a less serious sort since he spent most of his time officiating weddings between the Happy Port girls and their customers. 

Arya moved her arm over her face. The lights felt too bright. _Jon,_ she thought. She lost her last remaining brother. The most important person left in her life. _Why would anyone kill Jon? Why would anyone kill Father or Robb, stupid?_ she derided herself.

She felt the tears spring back up to her eyes again. Once again she had to remind herself. _I won’t cry. I’m a Stark of Winterfell. The last of them now, no one has seen Sansa in ages. Direwolves don’t cry._

It had been so long since she allowed herself to cry so she willed the tears away. She would not cry. 

“Cat, how do you feel?” The gentle voice belonged to the Sailor’s Wife.

“You had us worried,” said Yna. 

“If we lost you, who would be unimpressed by my magic tricks?” Cossomo the Conjurer added. 

He made her smile despite herself. “Good to know you’d miss me,” she said.

“We all would!” Little Narbo piped up, earnestly. Even Joss the Gloom nodded at that. 

Arya lifted the arm off her face to see that someone had cleared out most of the people from the common room. Ezzelyno, and the three mummers were the only men left. Una and Gertha were gone too.

“What happened?” Assadora, the Ibbenese, asked.

“The girl said something about a crow, and you started crying and then sank like S’vrone’s customers do when she slits their throats.”

“Is the crow your lover?”

“What’s a crow?”

Arya didn’t know how to answer the questions. _Jon is gone._ The hole where her heart used to be hurt. She didn’t think she could still hurt like this. 

She looked out of the window to see it was night. _Shit!_ She was late home! 

“I..I need to go,” she started. 

Merry raised her hand shaking about her index finger. “You’re not going anywhere like this,” she insisted, bringing her cockles she’d bought from her earlier with some bread and vinegar. “First you’ll eat, then I’ll take you to Old Brusco myself.” 

When she ate, Merry held her hand. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, child, but I hear releasing your burdens sometimes helps. Do you want to tell us what happened?”

Arya bit her lip. _I won’t cry,_ she told herself. She took a big gulp of air. 

“The man who died he was my brother… my favourite brother,” she confessed, telling someone the truth about her identity for the first time in ages. Not that any of them would understand the significance of who Jon Snow was. The free folk might have understood somewhat but no one could imagine what Jon Snow meant to Arya Stark. 

Merry simply held her. 

“What does he have to do with the men you had us looking out for?” The Sailor’s Wife asked.

“I don’t know. The girl they have with them grew up with me and my siblings. I haven’t had news from my family...well good news anyhow, for years. I wanted to know if she knows anything about them, or why she is here. She’s with king’s men. I want to know why.”

“Don’t worry, child,” Merry said. “We’ll find everything out.”

“I’m sorry…about your brother,” Little Narbo said. 

Arya sent him a smile. 

“I’ll pray for him,” Ezzelyno added.

“As will I,” said The Sailor’s Wife. She prayed to every god she could find for her first husband, the one she called her true husband. 

“We’ll find this girl,” Cossomo vowed. 

Merry nodded at her and continued stroking Arya’s short hair. 

When they were done, they walked across the alley to the mummers’ Ship. Merry instructed them to up-anchor and guide the ship to The Drowned Town.

The journey was a quiet one. Everyone was subdued. The only talk was to give her condolences. 

Once they got to Brusco's, Merry dropped her all the way to the door, telling Brusco that Cat had fallen ill and that she shouldn’t have to work tomorrow. Arya simply stared at the floor.

When she got up to the room she shared with Brusco’s daughters, she went straight to bed after she wiped off the day's grime. She’d need to have a proper bath soon. Talea and Brea exchanged confused looks for the second time that day. They got into bed and each one hugged her. One to her left and the other to her right.

She thought about how upended her life felt over the last few days. First Jeyne Poole came to Braavos with Stannis Baratheon’s men no less, then her dead mother fought a battle at the place of her death, her friend died protecting her dead mother and Jon, Jon was dead too. 

Who did she have left in Westeros? In the world? Perhaps this was the answer she was looking for about who she should be. Perhaps she was fated to remain Cat of the Canals, orphan girl, fish peddler, friend to many. 

But could she leave Jon’s death unavenged? She hadn’t avenged her father, she was too weak to help anyone at Harrenhal, she couldn’t help Robb and her mother or her little brothers when they died in Winterfell without her. Why was Jeyne Poole important at all? It’s not like Jeyne Poole would care what happened to Arya. She’d care for Sansa but not Arya. 

With that Arya fell asleep and once she did, she did not run with her pack.

—-

She got up before dawn. As with every morning, Talea murmured curses, while Brea woke up her chirpy self - a change from the past few days. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be staying home?” Brea asked.

“I feel better,” Arya lied. She did not want to spend an entire day alone in the house licking her wounds 

They floated to the fish market as they did every morning, down the Long Canal, past the Palace of Truth and the tall towers of the Prestayns and the Antaryons. Brusco bought his wares. Today Cat would be selling prawns as well. In the background, the Titan roared to herald the coming of the sun, waking up the sleeping city. 

When she got to Ragman’s Harbor she saw more men with the rose on white arrows sigil milling about. She presumed they must be sellswords from the Company of the Rose that The Sailor's Wife had told her about. One of them, a big blue-grey eyed man, bought from her. He kept staring at her and even grabbed her chin to hold her face up. 

“Where are you from girl?” he demanded, weirdly enough not harshly for a stranger who was holding her face.

She stepped back thrice to stand on a step just off Eel Alley and flicked her finger knife up in one swift motion to hold it under his chin. She’d only need to nick him once before he bled out. The eels would do the rest once she threw him in the canal. 

“Think very carefully about your next move,” she warned him. 

“Take it easy girl,” he guffawed. “You look like someone I know is all,” he said before slinking away. 

She didn’t see the Baratheon men but every one of her friends from the sailmenders to the taverners sent her sad smiles. _They all know._ When Cossomo saw her he called her over to The Ship and every one of the mummers asked her how she was. When she said she was fine for the _sixth_ time that morning, Myrmello asked her to prove it.

“Stand like a hero, just like I taught you,” he bid her. 

She planted her feet shoulder-width apart, stood side-face, placed her hands on her hip and stared out into the abyss, shoulders pulled back and chin raised. 

They broke out into applause while sad-eyed Quill broke out into a rendition from _The Song of Rhoyne_ for her. They made her laugh despite her pain and they bought most of her wares from her too. She was sure they did it out of kindness rather than need, for which she was grateful. It meant she could go to Una earlier. 

“Will you tell me what happened yesterday?” Una asked when Arya got to Silty Town.

They sat in the company of ten other women, Arya learned that the warrior women of the free folk were called spearwives and most of this group were warriors excepting Nella and Dyah who were a gentler sort.The spearwives would regale her with their tales of mammoths and giants and stealing whenever they had a chance but the majority of them worked as dockside whores now while the older women looked after the children who were too young to work.

Arya bit her lip at Una’s question but supposed there was no point in hiding any longer. Tagannaro would have told Gertha by now that Cat’s brother died.

“Jon Snow is my brother,” she blurted. The easiest thing would be to begin with the naked truth.

None of the women spoke. They just stared at her as if she grew a second head.

Finally, “You’re a daughter of Ned Stark?” Ragwyle asked. She was a tall, strong looking woman. Her hair was brown but had the odd string of grey. 

When she saw the look of suspicion Arya gave her she started laughing. “Oh don’t give me that look girl, I knew your father _and_ his siblings when they were mere lordlings.”

“How?” Arya managed.

“I wasn’t born to the free folk,” she clarified, wistfully. “I was born an Umber of the Last Hearth. Daughter of Mors Umber and Alys Wull.”

“How did you become a spearwife?” Arya inquired, interested. 

“When the free folk raid south of the Wall, the Last Hearth is one of the first castles they get to. I was a maid when my man stole me, he was hardly older than me himself. Over time I grew to like my freedom beyond the Wall so I stayed with him.”

“What happened to him?”

“Styr died fighting your crow brother,” she replied before she started laughing again. “When we caught your bastard brother-“

“My brother.” Arya corrected her.

Ragwyle simply smiled. “Suppose you have more of the free folk in you than you think,” she winked. Arya knew from Una that they didn’t really care as much about bastards beyond the wall.

“When we caught him, Rattleshirt wanted me to gut him on account of being a crow but I asked Rattleshirt to spare him, let him prove his worth I said. For all I was a spearwife I was still an Umber of the Last Hearth. Suppose care for Starks was drilled into my head...I’m sorry he’s dead.”

“You said he fought against your husband.”

“Free folk fight all the time and still break bread. Your brother gave the free folk passage and for that he has my thanks,” she replied.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Una asked. 

“Starks don’t tend to live long, it seems,” Arya replied. 

“What’s your true name, girl?”

“Arya of House Stark.” It felt good to say her name out loud. 

“You look like him,” Nella said. “Your uncle and brother both.”

“She looks like every Stark I ever knew,” Ragwyle added. 

“You know my uncle Benjen?” Arya asked Nella.

“Aye.” 

“Our father’s keep was not too far from the Wall so crows stopped by whenever they ranged and not many ranged more than your uncle. Last I knew he was lost to the crows. Did they ever find him?” Dyah continued for her sister.

_Another lost Stark. Probably dead._

“Did Gertha say anything else about why Jon was killed?” Arya asked Una. Una shook her head. 

Changing the topic of the conversation, Una asked, “The wolf you run with, a direwolf is it?” 

Arya nodded. 

“I met your brother’s monstrous wolf once,” Ragwyle said. “He took a large piece of Qhorin Halfhand’s leg, while your _brother_ pretended to turncloak.”

_Jon pretended to be someone else too!_

“Mance did say he saw your pups,” Una chipped in. 

“Mance?”

“The King-beyond-the-Wall, he said he’d been to your Winterfell twice before. Once probably before you were too young to remember but the second time he came while your king was there.”

“King Robert?”

“He the one with the Imp good-brother?”

Arya nodded.

“Him. Mance saw your brother there, your father and uncle too. Came as a singer he did.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon telling her tales of Jon, mostly about his spearwife, but occasionally Uncle Benjen too. It felt like a balm to her heart. 

They also spoke of her warging. They told her Jon was a warg too. She wondered whether Robb was one too and if that was the reason the Lannisters were so fearful of Greywind. 

When she told them of the battle at The Twins and Nymeria’s pack they were both impressed and horrified. 

“You must never eat a man’s flesh while in your wolf,” Nella warned.

“I’m not really eating,” Arya pointed out. Dream meat never did fill her belly. 

“That’s neither here nor there, girl,” Una said. “It’s still an abomination!” 

— 

When she left the free folk camp, she made her way to the only bathhouse in Drowned Town before she went home. She decided she’d visit Aurane tonight. He might have answers for her and she didn’t really want to go there smelling of brine. 

While there, she saw Daena from Izemabaro’s but she would have recognised Mercy not Cat so Arya scrubbed herself pink bathing in lemon water as well as soaps. She also took some of the perfumed oil provided and dabbed it across her neck, between her breasts and behind her knees, saving the last drops for between her thighs.

Once she was done, she dropped off the day’s profits to Brusco and went up the ladder to the room beneath the eaves. She donned a light grey dress - darker colours were associated with wealth in Braavos and Cat was an orphan lodging with a fish seller. Beneath it she wore small clothes of white lined with a black under tunic as well as her knives. In addition to her finger knife, up her sleeve, she had one in her boot and the other sheathed and strapped to her thigh. Then, she stepped out of the roof-side window to make her way to where Aurane’s ship was docked.

The three-decked dromonds came into her view. Of the five ships of the planned ten that were completed when Aurane took off from King’s Landing, there was _Brave Joffrey,_ which always reminded Arya of his terror when she held his silly sword above him at the Trident, _I should have killed him then_ she thought.

Then she saw the _Lioness_ and _Lord Renly_. Arya never understood why they’d have a ship named after Renly. He’d rebelled against the Lannisters same as Robb. 

After them, was _Sweet Cersei_ \- a bigger irony never existed. The ship had a gilded figurehead carved in a woman’s likeness, with a spear and a lion helm. _As if Cersei could fight in all her skirts._ Arya would love to see her attempt it, if only for the pleasure of killing her.

Lastly, she came to _Lord Tywin_ \- the biggest in the fleet with eight hundred oars. It was as mighty as the man himself had been when she last saw him at Harrenhal. Aurane personally captained this ship while men he carefully selected captained each of the other ships in the fleet - Cersei was stupid enough to let him select his own men rather than those who would have been loyal to her he said. _Blinded by lust,_ he called it. Arya would need to avoid making the same mistake. 

She snuck past most of his guards until she came across Aethan Waters. He always looked at her as if she was a whore he’d get his hands on one day. She once told Aurane she’d gut him before she ever let him touch her. 

When she got to the forecastle where the captain's cabin was located, she found Aurane reading a map by his desk. When she entered, he smiled and marched across to the door, his chair lying forgotten on the floor. He pinned her against it before kissing her breathless, groping everything he could grasp his hands upon. He began unlacing her dress, planting kisses across her clavicle.. 

“Where have you been Cat?” he groaned against her.

“Most men would regale their woman before they removed her clothes,” she teased. 

“My woman?” He continued unlacing her dress.

“I seem to recall you calling me your Silver Pearl, on that bed” she said, nodding towards his bed. Her dress fell to the floor. Her finger knife clattered with it. 

“You can’t expect to be treated like most women,” he said in a low voice. “ _Most women_ don’t carry a finger knife and have a knife strapped to their thigh.”

He moved his hands, slowly up her thigh to where her knife was strapped. He removed it and placed it on his desk. 

“A girl has to protect her virtue _my lord_. I hear pirates can raid with little to no notice.” 

He moved his hand further up her thigh until he reached her smallclothes, moving his fingers around them - eliciting a gasp from her. 

“I hear the Lord of the Waters is the worst of them, my lord.” She bit back a moan and moved her hands to his shoulders to steady herself. 

“I hear he’s trying to conquer a new land,” he whispered against her ear, inserting one finger into her. Then two. 

When he held her through her peak, she returned the favour with her hand.

Once he was done, she cleaned him up and removed her boots - final knife included. He pulled her down to the bed. Her head on his chest. They spent a few languid moments in silence. The buoying of the ship on the water had lulled her into falling asleep in this bed many times before. For a moment she felt peaceful. As if she wasn’t a girl who lost everyone she ever loved. As if she could be happy with him one day, lying like this, on his ship. She even considered telling him who she truly was for a moment. She was all alone now after all. She lost the last piece of her heart. When she looked up Aurane smiled down at her. It was an earnest smile she thought. Why else would he spend his time with, and give his affections to, a fish peddler? 

Sure, he suspected she was a highborn girl but he didn’t know _who_ she was. He couldn’t be playing a game with her. Well... she thought he wouldn’t anyway. And if she told him who she was and he tried to betray she could read his lies on his face before he did. She wouldn’t need a knife for what came next.

She decided now would be a good time to get up. Her thoughts were taking her to uncomfortable places. _Do not be blinded by lust,_ she had told herself before she came on this very ship and here she was. 

“I heard they killed the Black Bastard on the Wall,” she said nonchalantly, cutting through the silence, keeping her voice level like the waif taught her.

She sauntered across the room in just her under tunic to pour them wine so if his response upset her she had time to rule her face before she turned back around. She failed to do that when she first got the news of Jon’s death. 

“I heard the same,” he repeated. 

“Why would black brothers turn on each other? she asked, pouring the wine into the first cup. “I do hope my brother wasn’t caught up.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Cersei,” he said, sitting up. She turned to him to smile despite the fire she felt burn inside. 

_Cersei,_ Arya thought. _One day I will kill her. Slowly._  
  
“When I asked for all the thieves, her Master of Whisperers suggested sending one hundred men to the Wall to remove him.” 

Arya bit her lip and debated her next question. “The eunuch?” _Varys._

“Know him well, do you?” he threw back, a smirk on his face, when she turned around to face him.

“Knowing who is who as the great lords play their game of thrones can be as entertaining as any mummer's show,” she said petulantly to rile him up. She knew what he was doing. It was the game they played every time they met. 

“No, it wasn’t Varys,” he said as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “She named a sellsword instead. Qyburn, they called him.” He watched her closely.

“Never heard the name,” she shrugged. “I only knew of the eunuch.” 

She painted a smile on her face and walked back across the cabin with their wine. She sat on his lap, placed her glass on the bedside table and shared his glass with him, looking invitingly at him from under her eyelashes - like she saw The Sailor’s Wife do many times. She smiled as if a storm did not rage within her. 

Arya remembered Qyburn from his time with the Bloody Mummers. _Perhaps I’ll experiment on him,_ she thought. _Let’s see how he likes it._

Gendry blamed her for helping the Bloody Mummers given her part in the Weasel Soup incident. He called them turn cloaks and he was right. Qyburn fought for the Lannisters then Roose Bolton and then back to the Lannisters. _Perhaps he did not turn his cloak at all,_ she reflected. _After all, Roose Bolton is in league with the Lannisters himself._

_Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei, Roose Bolton, Qyburn. Valar Morghulis._

She took the cup out of his hand and placed it next to hers before kissing him back into the bed. Her next stop would be to find out what he knew about Stannis’ men and Jeyne Poole. 

“I thought you were avoiding me,” he sighed in between kisses. 

“You didn’t come seek me out either,” she pointed out, moving his hair back off his face. They were lying on their sides, facing one another. 

“I’m sorry. Someone I knew from Westeros arrived.” 

“Do I know them?” She was about to say _him._

“Do you know many people?” 

“Not as many as you.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her closer. 

When she saw he wasn’t going to offer any more, she decided to lead the conversation. “I saw the knight from Westeros...I spent ages trying to work out the sigil of his companions. Since when does House Baratheon have a fiery heart on it’s sigil?” she asked. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew the king’s sigil so it wasn’t too controversial a question. 

“It’s not House Baratheon’s,” he said. “Just Stannis... and his red priestess.” 

“Stannis believes in the Lord of Light?” 

“He purports to.” 

“What business does Stannis Baratheon have in Braavos?” 

“Care a lot about Stannis?” 

“Aurane,” she groaned, feigning the real frustration she felt. 

“I spend all my time around Braavosi, is it a bad thing for me to want to hear of home?” she pouted. 

“He’s sent his man, Justin Massey, to buy him sellswords to take the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I hear the Golden Company has sailed away from Myr,” she said.

“It seems more or less every sellsword company in Essos is converging in Slaver’s Bay, either to fight for the Dragon Queen or against her.”

“To hear the way the Volantene traders say it, your Dragon Queen is dead.” 

“I’ve heard the same,” he replied.

The latest news in the wharves was that no one had seen the Dragon Queen. The slavers were all but declaring their victory. 

“The only sellswords of note who are around here are the Company of the Rose, who happen to be in Braavos, and the Bright Banners in Lorath. If I was Justin I’d take the Roses and leave as soon as I can. He won’t be getting any more.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was sent to get twenty thousand swords. The Company of the Rose have seven thousand and The Bright Banners five. However he adds it up it won’t amount to twenty and I wouldn’t trust The Bright Banners with my money. To make Massey’s job worse, the Company of the Rose have women in their ranks.” He sounded disgusted.

“Women can fight too,” she insisted.

“Oh yes?” He moved up to lean on his bent arm so he could hover above her. 

“Know many?” He hovered over her. 

“Queen Nymeria of Ny Sar…” she protested. “Visenya Targaryen, even the free folk have spearwives-“ before she realised he was baiting her.

When she shut up, he placed his knee between her legs to make way for himself.

“What did you say your father did?”

“He was an oarsman.”

“An oarsman student of history was he?”

He started laughing and she joined in. Then suddenly her laughter made way for astonished moans as he entered her at once and drove into her without respite. 

“One of these days,” he panted above her, “I’ll get your true name out of you Cat.”

“The simplest answer is always correct, my lord. It seems to me _you_ want me to be more than I am.” She wrapped her legs around the back of his knees to flip them over. 

She knew her face was screwed up in enjoyment and concentration as she bore down on him. He turned his burning gaze up to her, a moan stuck in his throat. She continued the merciless pace he set - payback for his own actions and a battle she wouldn’t mind losing if he decided to retaliate. He met her thrust for thrust until she cried out, eyes rolling back. She fell forward onto his chest, sated for real this time, even if he was still sheathed inside her. 

It was _his_ turn to clean her up.

As he wiped their combined spend from her thighs, she began with a primer to asking about Jeyne. 

“From everything you’ve told me of Stannis, I’d just take his money and leave.” 

She didn’t need the primer it appeared.

“Because he has a bigger prize than the price of twenty thousand swords.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do this task well and he says he’ll get Arya Stark for a bride.”

 _It seems I’ve been busy,_ she thought. 

“Don’t be silly. In what world is one girl worth all that gold?,” she asked instead.

“Justin Massey is not even a landed knight. Arya Stark would give him dominion over the biggest kingdom in Westeros. To him she is worth more than gold.”

“Would Stannis do that? Give this... _Arya_ to him?”

He got back into the bed with her holding her close to him. She put her leg over his and he rested his hand on the small of her back. She rested hers on his neck. 

“If _I_ was Stannis, I’d marry her myself.” 

“Would you now?” 

He didn’t fall for her teasing.

“Fat lot of good that Florent wife has done him. Her family hangs on the trails of the Tyrells.”

“Why would Stannis help this girl? I thought you said she’s married.”

“You seem very interested in her.”

She rolled her eyes at him. 

“Stannis wants Winterfell and whoever has a Stark, has the North. Some of the mountain brutes up north have marched with him to free the girl from the Boltons. To hold the North, he’ll have to give her to one of his men.” 

“But Justin Massey is an idiot,” he added. “There’s no way Stannis will give _him_ , the heir of a Great House. I’d have a better chance. For all I’m a bastard, at least I have the title of a lord.” The _unlanded_ was unmentioned. 

“Stannis is not the sentimental type. The girl is his key to the Riverlands and potentially the Vale, though something tells me Littlefinger will have something or other to say about that.”

“I thought the North was independent,” she said. _Robb died a king._

”You one of those rebels?” he asked playfully.”  
  


She raised an eyebrow at him.   
  


“A smart man would marry the girl, garrison Moat Cailin and declare himself king,” he agreed.  
  
“So...” he said, moving closer, “you one of those rebels?”

_The queen of them according to you._

She swatted him away, “I’d love to see this Arya Stark,” she said.”I’ve never seen a woman worth all that gold.”

“Jealous are you?”

“Should I be?”

He kissed her instead. She wasn’t sure that counted as an answer. 

“Sell your cockles near the Purple Harbor,” he said. “You might get a peek of her there.” 

She realised then Jeyne Poole was supposed to be her. It couldn’t be the woman that accompanied her, she was too old to pose as Arya and they were the only two women in that group. 

Jeyne always played the lady with all her airs and graces as she trailed behind Sansa, but Arya never would have expected _this_ from her. If it wasn’t so treacherous a thing, it might even be funny to hear Jeyne play the Horseface. 

_If Jeyne Poole has betrayed my family to proclaim herself Lady of Winterfell. I’ll take her life myself,_ Arya vowed.

With that, she told Aurane she had to go. As always, he helped her dress, whispering thoughts about them leaving Braavos. 

_Perhaps we will,_ she thought... _once_ _I kill Jeyne Poole._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ragwyle was in Rattleshirt’s party when they caught Jon. She’s pretty well spoken for a wildling and, Jon noted, quite big. Mors Umber had a daughter stolen by the wildlings thirty years ago… Ragwyle also calls Ned Stark a “lordling” and Jon his “by-blow” - curious language for a wildling who don’t normally care about bastards and wouldn’t know Ned Stark from anywhere - unless of course she did know him as a girl. Quite tin foily I know but the theory is out there & makes some sense. 
> 
> Nella and Dyah are the names of two of Craster’s daughters. From what I remember I don’t recall if they were killed off so I’ve just concluded they found their way to the greater mass of wildlings anyway. 
> 
> Arya interacts with lots of women this chapter - most of them who she does know in canon. I wanted to highlight this because I really dislike the discourse that she somehow feels uncomfortable around women. 
> 
> All the mummers and the rest of the Braavosi characters are all from canon as well. 
> 
> I find Aurane a fascinating character & he’s a good contrast for Arya’s other bastard boys in that he doesn’t have that self-depreciating character to him. I thought that would be fun to explore with Arya lol.
> 
> I was going to give the Roses higher numbers but The Golden Company only have around 10,000 swords and they’re much more well-known than The Company of the Rose. 
> 
> Who did that man think Arya looked like I wonder?? Buckle up we’re about to get real crack-fiction.


	5. No one cares about Jeyne Poole

_“Jeyne is the next thing to a whore, you must go on being Arya,”_ Theon warned her. 

Now that Jon Snow was dead, Jeyne - no, Arya, she was Arya, _even in my mind I have to be Arya,_ she reminded herself- had to be Arya of House Stark for the rest of her life. No one who knew Arya Stark was here to contradict her. It was the only way for her to stay safe she knew - if such a thing still existed in this world. 

No one cares about Jeyne Poole. She knew as much. The Northern lords and even Stannis only ever cared for Ned Stark’s daughter as if Jeyne Poole was not someone’s daughter too - a loyal man’s daughter at that. 

_My father died too. But no one mourned my father. No one but me._

Her father was just a steward, he didn’t even carry a sword. He only did his job but no one cared that he died. There was a time when she thought someone might care. That someone might bring her father to her or rescue her from the nightmare that was her life. 

Lord Baelish had come to her, like a saviour from the songs, when she was worried sick about her father. He came to collect her from the room she had been sharing with Sansa. “ _My lady,”_ he said, “ _I am so sorry to hear of your distress. I am here to take you to your father,”_ he said. As if he knew her father’s name or cared for him at all. Up until that moment she was scared but when he came to her, she wiped her tears. She was so relieved to know that she would be reunited with her sweet father. 

He told her he wouldn’t harm “ _a noble lady, a daughter of House…”_ he didn’t even know the name of her house, but silly, trusting, girl that she was Jeyne finished for him, with a grateful smile on her face, “ _House Poole, my lord.”_ He stared at her with his gray-green eyes that never smiled even when his mouth did. “ _House Poole,”_ he repeated. 

He took her to a building in a poor part of town. He told her she’d have to wait there for him. That he’d bring her father to her. But he never did. And when she cried for her father, or Sansa or even Arya or Septa Mordane, they whipped her to silence her. No one cared that she was a little girl. A good girl, just one that was scared. She was nothing like Arya Horseface who would have fought them every step of the way. Arya was no true lady. Jeyne tried her best and they didn’t care that she was gentle and kind and trying her best to be a good lady. 

Instead, they said they had to _preserve her maidenhead_ but they could sell the rest of her. Some men only came to hit her. Like Ser Meryn Trant. He was supposed to be a member of the kingsguard, the most chivalric of the lot, like the knights in the songs that she and Sansa once loved, but he hit her until she spit out blood sometimes. And no one cared about that at all. 

Others were interested in her _pretty little mouth._ Every time she cried or vomited they whipped her. And others still would enter her from behind, that hurt the most but no one cared. Whenever she cried, the other girls would warn her to stop crying, as if what was happening to her was her fault. 

Then one day Lord Baelish came to her. He ordered a bath for her. He told them off for how they treated her. He even had his guards take away those who treated her the most horribly. He apologised profusely to her. He said he’d been searching for her father for a long time but could not find him. 

_“Do you want to go home sweetling?”_ he asked. 

Jeyne - _no, Arya, Arya_ \- nodded, trusting girl that she was. Her father may have been lost to her but she knew Winterfell. Robb might have protected her for no reason other than she was Sansa’s friend. She used to watch him in the yard sometimes, him and Theon Greyjoy, and even the dour Jon Snow. Bran and Arya would be trailing after them, begging to be included in their games, and when baby Rickon learned how to walk he would try to follow them too. 

If she went back to Winterfell she thought that Ser Rodrik might take care of her with Beth who had been her friend as well. _Oh that would have been so sweet._ For the second time in her life, she thought that Lord Baelish may have been her saviour. Even if he had been very late.

 _“I have some sad news for you sweetling,”_ he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “ _Just as I have been looking for your father, I have been looking for your friend, Arya Stark, as well. I am sorry to say that Lady Arya is now reunited with her father in the life beyond.”_ He looked at the floor like a man who was truly grieving. 

Arya was never Jeyne’s _friend._ She never acted like a lady. If Jeyne had been a Stark she would have been as good a lady as Sansa. Arya cared more about running around muddy with her brothers and all sorts of unsavoury characters, engaging in all sorts of unladylike activities but Jeyne still felt sad for her. She was a little girl too and they both lost everything.

 _“I want to get you out of here, sweetling”_ he told her. “ _But...Lord Tywin and the queen... they won’t let you go. They don’t think that you are anyone worth bothering about.”_

 _“My lord, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good,”_ she begged. “ _Please don’t leave me here, my lord.”_

“ _Well, there is only one thing for it my lady,”_ he told her. “ _It is not honourable but it pains me to see you this way.”_

“ _I’ll do anything! Please, my lord, I’ll do anything!”_ she cried. 

“ _The only way I can take you out of here is to arrange you a match with a lord who will treat you well,”_ he said. 

“ _I will make sure that it is a good marriage, sweetling,”_ he continued, “... _but the queen will only allow you to leave if we tell her that you are Arya Stark. She needs Lady Arya for the peace, but she doesn’t need you.”_

“ _My lord,”_ she said, horrified, “ _I don’t look anything like Arya!”_ Arya had a long horsey-looking face. Jeyne was pretty. She was comely, everyone said so, even if she wasn’t as beautiful as Sansa. 

“ _Not many people remember what she looks like,”_ he assured her, “ _And you are very pretty,”_ he agreed. _“Your lord husband will be grateful to have you for a wife.”_

 _“The queen will never believe it my lord, she knows what Arya looks like. Arya and her wolf attacked Joffrey. The queen will know!”_ she cried out. 

“ _Leave the queen to me,”_ he said. 

From then on they moved her to a new room in the Red Keep, far from anyone who might know her. They kept her locked in a room but they gave her clean clothes and no one bothered her. And then one day they presented her to Lord Tywin and the queen. They both inspected her and told her what was expected of her. They said the peace depended on her. They told her this match was better than she could ever expect, traitor’s whelp that she was. _I’m not a traitor,_ she wanted to say. _I didn’t attack King Joffrey,_ she wanted to tell the queen but she stayed quiet like Lord Baelish told her. She had to be Arya Stark, he said. So she was. Even with people who had known Arya. Like the queen who she was sure never believed her and Ser Jaime Lannister who looked at her as if he knew she wasn’t Arya. _I was prettier than she ever was, of course they would know._ Lord Baelish hadn’t convinced _them._ They knew she wasn’t Arya and they still let her leave. She knew then that Lord Baelish had lied to her about everything. He was the one who left her in that brothel and he lied about tricking the queen.

She was still hopeful though, perhaps her husband would be kind to her. 

Then they took her back North and Theon… Theon knew straight away but he told her she’d have to continue pretending. She hoped back then that her husband may be kind and gallant and treat her well or that Theon would take her for a wife or his whore and run away with her. She would have been a good wife to either of them and give her husband sons. Septa Mordane had taught them that a lady’s duty was to give her husband heirs. But her husband didn’t care that she was good or that she might have grown to love him. 

He made Theon do horrible things to her and he hit her and bit her and locked her in a room. The only person who was allowed to see her was Theon Greyjoy. Theon tried his best to be kind to her but he couldn’t protect her from her lord husband - her lord husband who gave her to his dogs. He made her do such horrible things with his dogs. When she cried he hit her, like they used to hit her in that brothel. She will carry her scars until her dying day. As if that wasn’t enough he told her he would flay her alive if she ever tried to flee. “ _I’ll take your feet,”_ he said. 

Then Theon came for her. He might have lost his fingers and his toes but he was more gallant than any knight Jeyne ever saw. He rescued her with those wildling women and when she cried he carried her, all the way to safety. 

“ _You saved me,”_ she whispered to him as he carried her away. “ _I saved Lady Arya,”_ he whispered back. _“Jeyne is the next thing to a whore,”_ he warned her, “ _you must go on being Arya.”_

The moment they got to safety Mors Umber started questioning her to make sure she really was Arya. As if she might have deserved what happened to her if she was not. 

In the songs, the king and the knights rescue the maid in distress. They guard her and watch her back but life had taught her that was only true if the maid was a noble’s daughter - a highborn herself. It’s why they let Sansa stay in the Red Keep and sent her to a whore-house. _Did the Imp ever treat her as bad as Ramsay did me?_ she wondered.

It’s why Stannis and the northern lords marched in winter for their lord’s daughter. They didn’t march for Jeyne Poole, Theon reminded her. _No one cares for Jeyne Poole._

King Stannis didn’t care for her. He marched for Lord Eddard’s daughter to get support from the Northern lords, none of them cared about a poor steward’s daughter. Never mind that Lord Eddard had always treated her father well or that her father was the most important man in Lord Eddard’s household. 

When King Stannis said that she had to go to Castle Black, to Jon, she wanted to die right there. He would know his half-sister, they were always close. There was no way he would not recognise her. Arya looked like him, they had their father’s eyes. And when he saw that she was not his sister he would have told King Stannis’ men and they would have thrown her out for being a pretender, maybe even for a traitor for the Bolton’s claim depended on Arya Stark. They wouldn’t even listen to what she had to say about all the things that had happened to her since her father died. _Jeyne is the next thing to a whore,_ Theon said, and how right he was. Jon once threatened to tell Lord Stark that she used to call Arya _horseface_ , if he ever knew that she pretended to be her, she didn’t know what he might do. He sent those wildling women to rescue Arya not her. Theon told her why they were there and who sent them. They would not have risked their lives for Jeyne Poole. They only came there for Arya Stark. 

When they got to Castle Black it was a mess. The wildlings had all but taken over the castle but for Queen Selyse’s men who were trying to preserve the peace. Jon Snow was dead, they told her. The wildlings rioted after he was killed by his men for trying to march to Winterfell to save Arya. His body was moved to an ice cell, they said. The red priestess who stared at Jeyne - _no, Arya, Arya she was Arya_ \- as if she could see into her soul refused to let them burn him or bury him. _Arya_ was not one to be glad at the death of another but she felt somewhat relieved. She would be safe for one more day she thought. Away from her lord husband. Perhaps the queen may take her into her household. Only the queen could keep her safe. 

Then to her surprise, Ser Justin Massey said that he would not leave her in the middle of that chaos. He had to travel to Braavos with the kind banker from the Iron Bank who spoke to _Arya_ as if she had not lost the tip of her nose to the ice. He spoke to her as if she was not as ugly as _Arya Horseface_ now. Lady Alysanne Mormont insisted on coming with him. She was charged with her safety and now that Jon Snow was dead, she said that she would not leave Lord Eddard Stark’s daughter’s side. She wanted to take her to Bear Island but agreed that Braavos may be safer until the Boltons were destroyed. _No one would have cared what happened to Jeyne Poole, but for Arya Stark Northerners would cross the Narrow Sea._

When she lost the tip of the nose, Theon assured her “ _No one will care what Arya looks like, so long as she is heir to Winterfell. A hundred men will want to marry her. A thousand.”_ How right he was. 

Ever since they set sail from Eastwatch Ser Justin Massey, a knight as handsome as Lord Beric had ever been, has been the example of gallantry. He has treated her with nothing but kindness. He told her that he regretted everything that happened to her, that he regretted not having rescued her before everything that befell her. He even confessed to developing feelings for her. “ _Perhaps my lady, once King Stannis defeats your husband, you would do me the honour of allowing me to be your husband. I would never let anyone harm you again,”_ he promised. 

_It’s Winterfell he wants,_ she knew. _It’s Arya Stark he wants, not Jeyne Poole._

The moment she disclosed who she really was she knew they would throw her out. Who cares about whether a steward’s daughter was thrown in a whore-house, and whipped until she stopped weeping for her father, and then whipped some more for some sick men’s pleasure? She knew no one cared what happened to Jeyne Poole. They would probably just be grateful that it didn’t happen to the real Arya Stark. 

She’d been in Braavos for over a week now, the ribs she broke when she escaped Winterfell still pained her but she could walk around the manse the banker had given them leave to stay in and sometimes she even walked near the harbour with the Baratheon guards and Lady Alysanne. 

Lady Alysanne, the heir to Bear Island, was a kind woman even though she was most unladylike in her dress. When they went out, they sometimes bought clams from a Braavosi girl, who was as tall and as pretty as Sansa. She did not speak the Common Tongue though so they had to point out what they wanted whenever they saw her.

Ser Justin was busy trying to find sellswords for his king and had increasingly begun to spend his time with a man he said he knew from Westeros, she’d seen him once. He had gold-silver hair like the Targaryens of old in the stories that Sansa and she used to beg Old Nan to tell them about. 

Given all he was busy with, Ser Justin normally left her to her own devices. She always had guards though - he wouldn’t risk the safety of Arya Stark even in a land where no one knew her. 

For the first time in years, she felt safe - if such a thing existed. The banker assured her that her lord husband couldn’t find her in Braavos and that nothing bad would happen to her here.

Old Nan used to tell them stories of Braavos, mainly about the Titan eating highborn girls, but she sometimes told them stories she heard from one Stark or other who had travelled to Essos to be a sellsword. He told her that the city was full of mummers and other entertainers. 

The guards told her of a mummer’s troupe that sometimes performed in the Common Tongue. They told her that they should go to Ragman’s Harbor where the people were more likely to speak the Common Tongue. They said a Westerosi fish peddler had told them of it when they first arrived. 

When they got there, Jeyne saw it was a more eclectic, busy, dirtier, side of town when compared to the part of the city they had been staying at. It was full of small alleys and dark corners. Everywhere she looked there were people, sailors of every colour, bakers selling their wares, taverners, beggars and...whores.

Jeyne knew the women who now crowded the guards were whores. They were hugging them and holding on to them, giggling. It was clear why the guards suggested this part of town when she saw how they smiled at the girls who surrounded them. 

Among them there was a pretty girl, around Jeyne’s own age. She had golden hair that shone like the sun. Then there was one who had one eye but she was so pretty that you could ignore the eye patch she wore. _Would people ignore my nose like that?_ she wondered. _They used to say that I had a pretty smile. Would that make up for it?_

There was another woman there, she was short and had a moustache but the guard who she went to didn’t seem to mind. Another two women joined them, one who was walking sideways as if she was drunk and another, rougher sort of woman, who had a dagger on her took the last of the five guards they had with them. 

“My lords!” a man with a seal shouted at the guards who were too distracted by the women who had surrounded them. “You came back!” 

The girls giggled and the guards waved at him as if they knew the man. She trailed behind them with Lady Alysanne. 

The man with the seal then looked at her, “Tell me, lovely lady,” he said in a heavy accent, “have you ever met the King of Seals?” He pointed to a fat seal by his side who had cockle and oyster shells around his body. “Meet Casso, the King of Seals!” 

The seal began barking and clapping then. For a moment it made Jeyne laugh and when she turned to Lady Alysanne she was laughing too. 

Then two other men popped out of an alley and began duelling. “Have you ever seen bravos duel before?” someone shouted. The men then began duelling and a crowd formed around them, each person shouting in favour of the one they preferred. She had some shouting for a _Myrmello_ \- or that’s the name she thought she heard - and another they called _Narbo._ She didn’t know which one was which. One was taller and the other short. He was missing fingers so he couldn’t really hold his thin sword properly with one hand. He had to use both hands. His lost fingers reminded her of Theon, she wondered how he was doing now when a third man joined them. 

He winked at her, and then he swallowed a mouse and produced it from his ear. The small crowd who weren’t watching the two bravos cheered him on. The area grew more and more crowded. Their guards had disappeared and the crows had pushed them near an alley. One moment she was standing next to Lady Alysanne and the next moment someone had blown something in her face and she was falling into a waiting boat where a big, brown-haired woman awaited her. That was the last thing she remembered before her world had turned black.   
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeyne Poole is one of, if not the most tragic named character in the ASOIAF universe. Poor girl had hopes of being her best friend's lady-in-waiting when Sansa became queen. She hoped that she might even find herself a nice, handsome, gallant husband like Lord Beric Dondarrion. She ended up living a never-ending nightmare instead. I really debated whether to write this chapter given the really triggering things that happen to the poor girl but thought it important to give space to her story. Her story is a magnified critique of why feudalism is so flawed. What happened to Jeyne is what would have happened to Sansa if she didn't happen to be highborn. That's how unfair a world ASOIAF is set in. That's what I was trying to get across in her inner monologue. She is realising the world that she thought was so great is actually really foul and that all the knights and kings in the songs don't care about the smallfolk, even if Jeyne is of noble birth. What matters to those in power is that she is not the daughter of a powerful house. I hope I didn't write her as unlikable or malicious - that wasn't the aim. Even the whole Arya Horseface thing is just a hang up from childhood with someone she didn’t get on with (for whatever reason). It’s how Jeyne describes Arya as late as ADWD, so I kept it in. Jeyne prided herself on her beauty, in a world that sometimes made her believe she wasn’t good enough, so losing the one thing she thought defined her is difficult. 
> 
> Littlefinger needs to suffer for the things that have happened to her just as much as Ramsay. I hope that we see that happen in the canon universe. 
> 
> I also thought I'd use this chapter to check in on our boy Jon Snow who is currently on pause - I mean on ice lmao. We'll check in to see if he's defrosted in a few chapters time. We'll also check in on Winterfell/the battle of ice when I decide who our POV will be/how exactly the battle will go. 
> 
> Last but not least the Stark who was a sellsword in Essos is Ned Stark‘s grandfather Rodrik Stark, the Wandering Wolf. I’ve just extended canon a little to make it look like he had been to Braavos because for someone who has seemingly never left the North, Old Nan sure does know a bit about Braavos. Perhaps he was her source. Maybe one day someone will write an entire story on Old Nan’s adventures (feat. her little romance with Dunk the hunk). 
> 
> I've had some time off work and so have had time to dedicate to mapping out this story from beginning to end (as well as doing the same for my other one - I will probably turn back to that soon - I'm enjoying writing both). That's all to say I hope to see this to the end lol. 
> 
> As every author says, comments and kudos, mean a lot and really add flavour to what can sometimes be a really arduous, and lonely process despite how entertaining creating these worlds can be. 
> 
> So if you do enjoy this, or even if you have any criticisms, whenever you manage to read this when it's published or weeks/months from now, please feel free to share them, I'm always looking to improve  
> :) 
> 
> I haven’t forgotten about this fic, I’m just going to try and finish my other work first.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the crackiest crack I’ve ever cracked but let’s see if I can make something of it lmao.  
> Written in a few hours and not beta’d. All mistakes are mine, please point them out and I’ll fix them.
> 
> I’m not sure why I can’t leave the number of chapters open ended but I’ll return to this at some point to troll some more.


End file.
